


Crack Open Another Bottle

by DarkAuroran



Category: Naruto
Genre: Comedy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAuroran/pseuds/DarkAuroran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's two in the morning, the street lamp tried to attack him, the road just bit him, and Iruka is stuck with the taste of soggy pork dumplings in his mouth. At least he managed to escape the marauding gang of eels that tried to steal his pants. All in all, Iruka's funeral went wonderfully!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crack Open Another Bottle

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to- Oi! Don’t throw shit at me!” Izumo yelled angrily as he was bombarded with dip soaked corn chips, empty bottles, and a rather sorry looking napkin.

“This is a funeral, y’moron, not a fucking wedding! ‘Dearly beloved’ my sweet arse,” snorted Kotetsu as the rest of those lazing drunkenly around the lounge room laughed uproariously.

Izumo plucked a chip from his hair and crunched it aggressively while glaring at his long-term friend and often mission partner. “It’s my eulogy and I’ll say whatever the hell I please. I didn’t throw crap at you when you were speaking.”

“I didn’t sound like I was trying to marry off a dead man.”

The black haired Chuunin threw another corn chip, which Izumo caught mid air in his mouth and cockily munched. It was quite an impressive move considering how much the bandanna wearing shinobi had drunk that night. The effect was mildly ruined because of the tomato salsa streaked across his cheek however.

“My eulogy,” he grumbled again. “Just shut up and try to be respectful for once in your life, idiot. This is for Iruka.”

Kotetsu just snorted again and downed another cup of sake. Flicking some crumbs from his black mourning clothes and clearing his throat, Izumo started again.

“Dearly beloved,” a challenging glare was aimed at the spiky haired Chuunin but Kotetsu just rolled his eyes and didn’t interrupt, “we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of our dear friend Umino Iruka. Iruka was a wonderful teacher, a good man, and a supportive friend. He was also the little shit bag from hell as a Gennin!”

A loud cheer and more rambunctious laughter greeted his statement. Izumo staggered slightly as he waved his arms around and called for silence. His lightly tanned skin sported two dark red patches high on his cheeks, showing just how drunk he really was. It truly was a miracle the man had managed to remain standing that long, let alone be capable of any form of comprehensible speech. Finally, the noise died down and the brown haired Chuunin could continue.

“Our darling Iruka was such a cute kid, all wide innocent eyes and toothy grins. But, little did the upstanding citizens of Konoha suspect that the adorable orphan was really the devil incarnate of mischief.”

“How the fuck can you use such big words when you’ve drunk two bottles,” Anko suddenly yelled from the couch. “Wrap it up, pretty boy. We still gotta bury the dead.”

Izumo stuck his tongue out at the purple haired kunoichi before frowning and squinting at her. “What’re you doing here anyway? You’re a Jounin!” he said pointing accusingly.

“Special Jounin, not full Jounin!” Anko screeched at him and threw a handful of popcorn. “Besides, you were all at my funeral so I get to go to yours! Now finish the hell up already!”

The men in the room had all covered their ears as their only fellow female ‘mourner’ valiantly attempted to shatter the windows with her voice. Anko could get remarkably shrill when drunk.

Iwashi made shushing noises and stuffed a dango ball into the loud kunoichi’s mouth to muffle any more noise. Luckily Anko’s obsession with the sticky treats prevented her from spitting it out and yelling some more.

“Quiet down,” Iwashi hissed as the woman munched delightedly. “My neighbours will start complaining.”

Kotetsu and Izumo looked confused for a moment.

“We’re your neighbours,” Kotetsu said, pointing between himself and Izumo.

“And you’re about to start complaining, right?” Iwashi countered with his brilliant drunken logic.

The two other Chuunin glanced at each other before nodding agreeably.

“Yeah,” they intoned at the same time and Iwashi just gave them a look that clearly said ‘well there you go’.

Izumo shook his head to clear it, stumbled as his sense of balance decided to fly out with what ever else had been clouding his thoughts, and waved his arms around for everyone’s attention.

“Anyway, I’ll cut this short. He was a cute kid, demonic shit head, possessed the temper of a horny bull, and the golden arse of a god!” He hefted his sake cup high and all those in the room did the same, much of the alcohol spilling to the floor. “A toast to my beloved friend – Iruka! May that gorgeous behind of his rest in peace.”

“To Iruka!” chorused around the room and cups were drained.

Finally, Izumo’s brain decided that having legs was just too much bother and he collapsed sideways onto his happily flushed, pony-tailed friend.

“I’m gonna miss ya, Ru,” Izumo laughed and wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders, giving him a wet kiss on the cheek.

Iruka just kept laughing and hugged his friend back roughly.

“Good to know I’m going into the other world loved,” Iruka declared before hiccuping drunkenly and reaching for the sake bottle again.

“Well, you did manage to piss off an entire room full of Jounin and _the _Hatake Kakashi,” Iwashi said and passed over a bowl of long cold pork dumplings.

“Yep.” Kotetsu cackled happily. “You’re fucked.”

“Totally fucked!” Anko agreed loudly and snagged another stick of dango.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Iruka sighed and popped a dumpling in his mouth before pulling a face and mumbling around his food, “Those really are disgusting when cold.”

“Yeah, the food’s done. Let’s go bury the dead!” Izumo yelled, pumping his fist in the air and all except Iruka cheered.

“No! I don’t wanna be buried with the taste of cold dumping in my mouth.”

“Easy fixed!” Anko whooped and shoved a bottle of sake to his lips.

More alcohol poured down his chin than what made it into his mouth but it was the thought that counted. The five shinobi staggered to their feet and stumbled from the apartment leaving a mess behind that would inevitably take Iwashi the entirety of the next hung-over morning to clean up.

~*~

  
Three hours, numerous mud ball fights, and countless bottles of sake later, Iruka was weaving his way through the streets of Konoha towards his apartment. He was _incredibly _drunk, filthy, dripping wet, and missing quite a few of his clothes. He would have been much dirtier if he hadn’t lost his footing at the edge of the lake and fallen into the water, thus his being completely soaked. Fortunately, it was still early autumn and the weather wasn’t frigid.

His half dressed appearance stemmed from his groups tradition that the dead needed to be buried naked. Iruka had barely managed to keep hold of his pants and singlet but the others had still managed to steal his leg wrappings, funeral shirt, shoes, and hair tie. Knowingly, he’d left his leaf hitai-ate safely at home before attending his ‘funeral’. Even though he had managed to keep his singlet, it was in poor condition; large rips covered the mud splattered black fabric where Anko had tried to tear it off his body.

As Iruka deftly managed to avoid the evil light pole, which had suddenly sprung up in front of him, the roadside curb decided that this was the perfect opportunity to leap out and _attack_. The academy sensei lost his footing and was sent sprawling onto the road. He rolled onto his back and lay there for a moment, staring up at the stars above, before starting to laugh quietly. Even completely inebriated, he still had the sense not to make too much noise in a hidden village of ninja. They tended to throw pointy things when grumpy.

Rolling to his side, the merrily intoxicated man managed to get to his knees before attempting to stand. He failed spectacularly and fell back into a sitting position, dark hair hanging around his face in dirty clumps. As he sat in the middle of the road and contemplated how incredibly difficult standing had suddenly become, Iruka noticed his arm was bleeding. How in the world had that happened?

_Oh yeah, the evil curb._

He glared nastily at the bordering stretch of concrete quietly edging the road and trying to look innocent.

“Mean. That was just mean,” he grumbled at it darkly.

A muffled step sounded somewhere behind him and when Iruka tried to snap his head around to look the world decided to tilt drastically to the left. He groaned and cradled his head carefully with his hands in case it should tumble off his shoulders and continue the journey home without him. Another footstep reached his numbed ears and the dark haired man decided calling out might be a safer option than trying to look.

“Where who’s?” he demanded of the dimly lit street before pausing and scrunching up his scarred nose in confusion. “No, wait a minute, that’s not right,” he muttered and frowned down at the road. “Not where who’s. Doesn’t make any sense. Who’s where? No, not right either.”

“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘who’s there’ or perhaps ‘who’s that’,” a deep voice spoke to him from close by.

Iruka looked up through his matted hair to see a tall, shadowed figure standing over him outlined by the street light. He squinted to try and focus his eyes and managed to pick out enough distinguishing features to recognise who this person was. Tilted hitai-ate, black mask, poufy silver hair, and slouched posture. Of all the people he’d had to run into on his way home it just _had _to be Hatake Kakashi. That was plain unfair. He fixed the Jounin with hazy brown eyes and pouted.

“I can’t die yet. I can still taste the dumplings. I don’t wanna die with the dumpling taste in my mouth. You’re early!” He glared accusingly at where he assumed the older man’s eye to be before his gaze dropped and he frowned darkly at Kakashi’s vest pockets as if the situation was entirely their fault.

“What are you on about? How does dumplings and your apparent death relate to each other?” was the rather confused enquiry from above. “Were the dumpling poisoned?”

Iruka continued to stare at the pockets. It was far too much effort to raise his eyes any higher.

“Um, no. Well, they might have been. Kotetsu cooked them and that’s always bad, bad news. But Anko lied and then stole my shirt. I think Izumo used it to replace his bandanna after it got lost in the mud when Iwashi scored a goal. But then he stole my shoes to use as ammunition. I wonder if Kotetsu’s still tied to that tree… hmm. Still Anko lied! Now it just tastes like soggy plum pork dumpling and not in a good way. I wonder if pork dumplings would go well with plum sauce… Hey, did you know there’s eels in the lake?” Iruka finished his ramblings raising wide, expectant eyes to the man still hovering over him.

There was a long silence before the silver head shook slightly. The tall figure crouched down next to Iruka, moving away from the bright light so the intoxicated Chuunin could finally see the Copy Ninja’s exposed eye. It looked thoroughly confused. What was so confusing about there being eels in the lake? Either Kakashi knew they were there or he didn’t. Obviously, by the look the pale man was giving him, he didn’t and Iruka had the sympathetic urge to reassure him.

“There are,” he stated earnestly, placing a comforting hand on the Jounin's shoulder. “Big ones.”

The single grey eye crinkled slightly and a gloved hand rose to scratch at the back of the silver head.

“Okay, that hurt my brain just a smidge. Let’s try something a bit simpler.” Iruka thought he could hear amusement in the Jounin’s voice. “Why are you sitting in the middle of the road at two in the morning?”

“Because the curb attacked me,” the inebriated man growled and glared angrily at the stretch of concrete. “It attacked me and then the road bit me,” he held up his bleeding arm, “and then I think one of them stole my legs ‘cause they’re not working anymore. They’re in cohorts!”

A chuckle came from behind the dark mask. “I think you mean cahoots.”

“That too. Bastards.”

Another chuckle drifted on the air. “Alright, back onto more serious topics. Why do you think you’re going to die?”

At those words, Iruka remembered to whom he was talking and his shoulders slumped in defeat, his hand falling from the other's shoulder. He couldn’t fight the famous sharingan Kakashi like this. He didn’t even have his legs! The teacher’s alcohol flushed face transformed into a vision of desperate misery. Large dark eyes looked directly into the single grey now watching him with surprised concern. Iruka had perfected the ‘lost kicked puppy’ look when he had been a young trickster. The real thing was by far more devastating, especially when he was sitting there flushed, wet, muddy, bleeding, in ripped clothes, and with his hair loose.

“This isn’t fair. I suppose it’ll hurt less like this.” He sighed sadly and tried to smile but came out looking simply miserable. “Alcohol dulls pain, right? At least I made it through my funeral.”

By this stage, the Jounin was looking thoroughly confused and more concerned. “Iruka-sensei, who do you think want’s to hurt you?”

“You.”

A sliver eyebrow hiked up so far it disappeared beneath the headband. “Me?”

“Yeah, though I thought there’d be more,” he muttered and looked around the deserted street. “Suppose you don’t need them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I pissed off a room full of Jounin and challenged your authority. The guys decided that was the first nail in my coffin so we had my funeral tonight and now I’m just living on borrowed time.” The teacher looked up at the stars again and sighed. “I always knew my students would be the death of me.”

“Right, well, that makes a little more sense. Unexpected but we’ll get to that. I just need to be clear on one thing though, you had your funeral tonight?”

“Yeah, that way I get to hear the eulogies, drink the alcohol, and eat the food. Except we had cold pork dumplings and that’s just wrong. Who would be so cruel to feed mourning people that? Kotetsu obviously.” Iruka shook his head slowly so it didn’t dislodge and land in the Jounin’s lap. “Serves him right to be tied to that tree with a mud bra.”

He glared at the Copy-nin when something that sounded suspiciously like a mutter of ‘should have gotten him drunk sooner’ reached his ears.

“I’m not drunk! Am just mildly tipsy is all. I have amazing powers of alcohol intolerance!” Iruka frowned and looked at the Jounin’s vest again as the older man started laughing. “Wait, that’s not right. What was- hey! Stop trying to distract me. I won’t go down without a fight, Kakashi. Be easier if I had my legs though. Stupid curb. Are you in contorts with it too?” He frowned suspiciously up at the older man.

Kakashi’s eye curved up into a crinkled arch. “Nope, I’m not in contorts, cohorts, or cahoots with the curb and road.”

“Oh, well, that’s good then. They’re not to be trusted.” Iruka folded his hands in his lap and looked down at where they rested against his legs. “Hey! They’re back!”

“I rescued them from the enemy for you,” the Jounin said, amusement clear, “as a peace offering.”

“You did?” Iruka asked him, eyes wide in amazement. Kakashi nodded at him. “_Wow_, you really are _good_.”

“So, can we move past the Chuunin nominations and be friends?”

The dark brow furrowed as the Chuunin mulled over Kakashi’s words and apparent heroic deeds for a few silent moments.

“Yes,” he said very seriously.

“Good. Think you can walk now?” the Jounin asked with a crinkle eyed smile.

Iruka snorted at him. “‘course I can.”

After two failed attempts it was clear he couldn’t. Kakashi quietly crouched there watching as Iruka tried to regain his feet after initially shaking off the Jounin’s offered assistance. Finally, the intoxicated man realised he’d have to admit defeat without admitting defeat. But how did one do that with the Copy-nin who was renowned for his ability to look behind the underneath... or something like that? Ugh, it was all just too much trouble.

“I think I need help,” he finally mumbled in a small voice. “They don’t seem to be working yet.”

A pale hand took hold of one of his dirty tanned ones and coaxed the Chuunin’s arm over vest-clad shoulders. The shorter man was hauled to his feet and had to rest against the solid body supporting him the ground valiantly attempted to imitate the ocean during a storm. A solid arm wrapped around his waist and held him steady until the earth decided to stop moving.

“It would be easier if I just teleported us but I think you need a walk to sober up,” the deep voice murmured next to a tanned ear and Iruka grunted his agreement, too inebriated to care about personal space.

He was glad Kakashi no longer wanted to kill him, however, something about their earlier conversation was bothering him and he suddenly realised what it was.

“Hey, I pissed you off at the nominations so why are _you _giving _me _a peace offering?” he asked, trying to point at each of them in turn but messing up the order.

Kakashi just flashed his bizarre eye smile again and started them moving forwards. “So, there are eels in the lake huh?”

“Yeah!” The drunk and easily distracted Chuunin grinned. “Big ones.”

“And how did you discover that tonight?”

“Anko tried to steal my pants.”

A strange choking sound came from his current support and Iruka looked at the pale man curiously. “I think you might need to explain that one a little more for me, Iruka.”

“Hey, you didn’t call me sensei,” the Chuunin accused.

“Well, you didn’t call me sensei earlier either.”

Iruka cocked his head and squinted at the older man. “But, you’re not my sensei.”

“And you’re not mine, so we’re even.”

That little revelation swam around in Iruka’s brain along with the sake which had replaced his blood for the evening.

“You,” he pointed unsteadily at the silver haired Jounin, “make a very good point.”

The older man just chuckled. “So, Anko tried to steal your pants?”

“Yeah, and I had to evade but the lake moved too close and I fell in. Then the eels tried to steal my pants but I got away from them too. Slimy bastards.”

 “Right, so that explains why you’re all wet and muddy.”

“Less muddy,” Iruka corrected.

“Less muddy?”

“Yeah, ‘cause the eels attacked and I jumped out of the lake and warned everyone and we all ran off screaming. Um, except for Kotetsu. He’s still tied to a tree.” The heavily intoxicated man suddenly gasped and jerked in horrified realisation. “Oh my God! The eels will get Ko! I have to go save him.”

The staggering Chuunin was prevented from stumbling off to rescue his spiky haired friend from a marauding gang of eels by Kakashi's firm grip on him.

“It’s alright, Iruka. Kotetsu’s safe from the eels,” the Jounin soothed and the drunk man found himself pulled a little against the slightly taller frame.

Iruka looked worriedly into the exposed grey eye crinkled happily at him.

“Did someone rescue him already?” he asked in a small voice.

“Mmhmm, ANBU heard all about the eel king's heinous plot to capture our shinobi and saved Kotetsu from their evil, slimy clutches,” Kakashi said.

The muddy man stared at the silver haired Jounin with absolute horror. “Oh my God! I have to save Ko from the ANBU!”

The pale man’s limited expression turned confused again. “What? Why?”

The road chose that moment to try and bite Iruka again but Kakashi was too quick for the malicious asphalt and managed to keep him upright.

“Because they’re gonna kill him! Ko peed on one!”

A moment’s stunned silence followed that little bit of information.

“Hagane Kotetsu urinated on an ANBU?” Kakashi asked carefully.

“Well, yeah! That’s why we had his funeral,” Iruka scoffed before trying to move away and stumbling again. “That’s why I gotta go save him.”

The firm grip on him didn’t loosen an iota. “He’ll be fine, I promise. Enlighten me, how exactly did Kotetsu manage to pee on an ANBU?”

“You really promise?”

“I really, really promise.” The voice was low and gentle and Iruka found himself leaning against the Jounin’s steady frame again. The pale hand holding his wrist stroked a thumb over his pulse point and it relaxed the inebriated Chuunin further. “Now, this is a story I have to hear. Tell me.”

“Well, Ko was on sentry duty and had to go to the toilet. There was no one around to cover his post so he decided to just go off the side of the wall. He was all stealthy and ninja-like but there was an ANBU being more stealthy and ninja-like below. It wasn’t pretty, “Iruka shook his head slowly in sympathy, “and really quite smelly. Ko ended up in the hospital for a week thinking he was a twelve year old girl with a crush on Ibiki-san and a phobia of pudding.”

The Jounin’s laughter was long and appreciative.

“It wasn’t that funny. The pudding was trying to molest him! And he kept trying to braid my hair,” Iruka adamantly defended his friend.

“I’m sure it was terrifying for him. Oh god, that’s gold.” Kakashi chuckled a little while longer before sighing appreciatively and giving Iruka a little squeeze. “Tell me more about this funeral ritual you and your friends have.”

Amusement was still obvious in the older man’s voice but Iruka decided to forgive him for laughing at his friend considering the whole situation had really been quite hilarious. That and he was once more distracted by the request.

“Oh, well, when one of us does something really stupid to piss off those of higher rank we figure we’re gonna get torn apart pretty soon so we all get together and have a damn good time so they can enjoy their send off before actually getting sent off. We have food and sake and give our farewell speeches so they can enjoy it before it happens. Then we bury the dead. If it’s winter we have a snow war but we had a mud war tonight. The dead’s supposed to be buried naked but ‘cause they’re still alive it makes it kinda hard… unless you’re Izumo and passed out.”

“I see. That’s quite a nice ritual actually,” Kakashi commented lightly. “And it explains your appearance.”

“Doesn’t explain yours though.”

“Hm?”

Iruka raised his hand not being held captive in Kakashi’s grip and poked the Jounin’s chest.

“You’re muddy and wet too. What did you do? Did the eels try and get you too?”

A deep chuckle drifted from the masked throat. “No. I happened across a fallen angel tonight who’d had a rough evening so I helped him out and this is the result.”

“Ah.” The drunk man nodded solemnly like the story made perfect sense, which it might have in his head at that moment. “Not nice to leave you all muddy like that.”

"Maa, it's worth it."

They walked in silence for a good while, Kakashi keeping a firm hold on his waist and the road eventually stopped trying to bite him so often. It was nice to have some help getting home but the Jounin’s assistance was still nagging at him. Kakashi had forgiven him awfully quickly. The Copy Ninja was supposed to be beating the hell out of him, which was why he’d had to have his funeral that night. But instead the silver haired man had rescued his legs from the evil clutches of the curb as a peace offering then made sure he wasn’t ambushed again. He was being awfully nice… unless…

Iruka turned his head to squint contemplatively at the pale man’s exposed eye.

“Hey Kakashi?” An answering hum gave him leave to continue. “You’re not trying to lull me into a false sense of insecurity, are you?”

There was an amused snort and the silver head shook slightly.

“If I was trying to lull you into a false sense of insecurity that would mean you feel secure already. Therefore, by lulling you into a false sense of insecurity any insecurity you feel you'll know isn't real and you’re actually very secure.”

Iruka blinked, blinked again, and then decided that if he blinked one more time that statement might actually make sense. It didn’t.

“You’re non-sensible,” he muttered confusedly.

“So I’ve been told.” The Copy-nin gave him a smile before nodding to a building ahead. “Well, here we are.”

The very confused Chuunin gazed at the door they stopped in front of and frowned.

“This isn’t my house.”

“Nope, it’s mine.”

The frown deepened.

“Why are we at your house?”

“Well, considering how many times you’ve been attacked tonight I figured you could do with a bodyguard.”

The frown turned into a glare.

“I’m a Chuunin.” Iruka poked himself in the chest. “Me, Chuunin. I can defend myself.”

“Ah, but what if the enemy steals your legs again? You'll be at a major disadvantage and in need of back-up.”

The glare receded to a contemplative frown.

“Hmm… You raise a violated point, my friend.”

The Jounin chuckled. “They’re the best kind.”

The door was opened and the muddy man stepped over the landing. Kakashi flicked on the lights and Iruka looked down to finally see just how incredibly filthy he really was.

“Holy mother of mayhem!” he exclaimed.

“Yep, you’re mess. C’mon, let’s get your clothes off.”

Now, for the normally responsible and upstanding sensei an order to take off his clothes would generally have him glaring and giving delivering a firm reprimand. However, in light of the weirdness that had already occurred that night and the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed, Kakashi’s request did not seem all that out of the ordinary.

“Good idea.” Iruka grinned sunnily and started pulling off his ruined singlet.

“Definitely should have gotten him drunk sooner,” came a quiet mumble as the black material cleared his lank hair.

“Huh, say something?”

“Maa, nothing, nothing,” the Jounin chirped happily as the door swung closed behind them.


End file.
